Danger at Oaklund Manor
by Shorina
Summary: The son of an industrial magnate receives threats to his life. Can Lewis and Hathaway prevent the threats from becoming reality?
1. Chapter 1

_The characters of Lewis, Hathaway, and Superintendent Innocent belong to Colin Dexter and/or ITV. I merely borrow them for this story which is making me no money. All other appearing characters are my creation and completely fictional. Similarities to any existent persons are not intended._

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Bright daylight filters through the blinds of the windows, lighting up a small but tidy office. The blueish glow from the computer screen makes the woman sitting at the solitary desk look rather pale though she's wearing neatly applied make-up. She's in her mid 40s, wearing a dark blue skirt and a white blouse with a scarf wrapped around her neck for decoration.

One by one she opens the stack of letters on her desk, sorting them. Bills on one stack, correspondence with clients on another, very urgent matters on a third stack.

She opens another envelope and removes the folded paper. She recognizes it immediately as she unfolds it and drops the letter opener in horror. A shriek escapes her mouth before she clamps her hand over it. She is still holding the letter in a badly trembling hand.

A moment later the door to her right flies open and a man in shirtsleeves rushes in. He's in his early 30s and looks ready to hit someone in the face. "What the..." he says before his eyes fall on his trembling and now truly pale secretary. "Beatrice - what is it?"

Beatrice Farnham is still too shocked to speak. She simply holds out the paper to the man who impatiently grabs it from her trembling fingers and fully unfolds it. His eyes narrow in anger as he scans the text. "Another one of those! Someone really must think it's funny to send threats."

Beatrice finally finds her voice. It's still weak though. "It's the fifth in just two weeks, Mr. Alexander. Shouldn't you - I don't know - tell the police about it?"

Philip Alexander looks at her for a long moment, his eyes still narrow slits of anger. "The police, eh? And what would they do?"

His secretary looks away nervously.

"You really do worry, don't you? Beatrice?" The man tries for a softer tone. There was no need to snap at his secretary like that. But it always seems to be his first reaction whenever someone suggest he might need help with anything. Usually he doesn't need help. But maybe Beatrice is right about this.

"All right, I shall discuss it with father. And if he thinks I should worry, then I will go to the police." He still thinks it's all a bad joke, but the worry on the woman's face has put a tiny bit of doubt in his mind. It can't hurt to show the letters to his father. He'd been in business for so long, he had probably received hundreds of such letters in his life.

Beatrice nods, trying to get a grip on herself again. She knows Philip Alexander doesn't like scenes, doesn't like weak people, so she does her best to calm down. Her hands tremble a lot less when she hands him the 'urgent' stack of letters. "You should look at these, Sir. They need answering."

Philip Alexander takes the letters from her, glad to be able to just get back to work. He retreats to his office with both the threatening letter and his business mail, closing the door behind him.

The room is panelled in dark wood and the lights are low. Around the table the Alexander family has gathered for dinner with Zachary Alexander at the head. He's a broad shouldered man, his hair a silvery-white, well cut. He is wearing slacks and a pullover with the collar of his shirt visible. A golden Rolex is on his wrist and a golden signet-ring on his right hand.

"Have you ever received threat letters, father?" Philip asks casually and picks up his wine glass.

"Threat letters?! No, I have not. What a question is that!" Zachary has a dark and booming voice. He's a self-made millionaire who worked his way up, originating from the working class. Having started out as a factory worker he never gave up the habit of nearly yelling in conversations to drone out the noise of the machines. Today it might be because of his fading hearing, though.

The answer does worry Philip a bit. He had been sure it was nothing special for a rich magnate to receive threats. "Well..."

His mother looks at him with worry. She's a slim, petite woman. Her high cheekbones make her look elegant, a look that is intensified by the pearl necklace and earrings she wears to her cream blouse and dark trousers.

Philip drove to dinner at his parents' straight from work and is still in his pin-striped dark grey business suit. He reaches into the pocket of his jacket and produces the letters, all five of them, wondering why he had bothered to keep the first four as he had taken them for a bad joke. Silently he hands the letters to his father.

The old man fishes around in the pocket of his shirt for his reading glasses and when he finally produces them from under his pullover, begins to read. His wife looks from her husband to her son and back, the worry on her face growing with every moment of silence.

"When did you get these?" Zachary finally asks.

"They arrived over the last two weeks with the regular business mail."

"I hope you've reported this to the police."

Philip shifts uncomfortably under the gaze of his father. "Uhm, no, not yet. I wanted to talk to you about them first."

"Let me see them!" His mother grabs the letters from her husband's hands and seems to turn paler with every letter she reads. "Oh my God! You must go to the police with these, Philip! I cannot believe you have not done so yet!" She obviously is very alarmed.

"I agree with your mother there. Don't take something like that lightly. Now if it was just one, maybe. But five! Go, call them immediately." Zachary points to the phone on the side table at the end of the room but Mrs Alexander cuts in. "It's no use phoning them, you need to go to the police. They need to see the letters!"

Philip retrieves his mobile from his inside pocket. "They can come over and pick them up. I've been drinking, I can't drive anyway."


	2. Chapter 2

Four days later in an office of the Thames Valley CID, D.I. Robert Lewis and his partner D.S. James Hathaway are sitting at their desks, bent over some papers. They are both dressed in suits, Hathaway's seemingly better tailored than Lewis'. The flower on the shelf behind Lewis could do with some water, apart from that the office looks tidy. No files are scattered, nothing seems out of place.

"C5," Lewis says, studying the paper in front of him closely.

"Water," Hathaway replies calmly.

"Darn, where have you hidden your ships?" He seems about to loose their game of Battleships if he doesn't get lucky very soon. Their playing fields leave no doubt that Hathaway has sunk all but one of Lewis' ships already and his superior is far behind.

"H7," Hathaway calls out next, tracing his pen over the paper.

Before Lewis can answer, the phone on his desk rings and he sighs as he sees the caller-ID on the display. He drops his pen and picks up the receiver. "Yes, ma'am?"

'What are you working on, Lewis' asks the voice of Superintendent Innocent over the line.

Lewis hesitates for a just very short moment before answering "Paperwork, ma'am."

'Good, that can wait. I want you and Hathaway in my office. Now.'

"We're on our way" he replies and puts the receiver down, turning to his Sergeant who has been following the short exchange with interest. "Innocent calls. Oh - and water."

"Bummer," Hathaway replies and gets up, following his superior officer out the door and over to the Superintendent's office.

Lewis' knock is answered by a curt "Come in." He is surprised to find a young man in a pin-striped suit sitting in one of the visitor's chairs. He seems to be around Hathaway's age, maybe a year or two older. "You called for us, ma'am?"

"Lewis, this is Philip Alexander, son of Zachary Alexander. Mr. Alexander - D.I. Lewis and D.S. Hathaway." His Superintendent is sitting stiffly behind her desk, her hands folding on the top of the table after introducing the men to each other.

The formal introduction - and the mention of the man's father - confuse Lewis a bit but fortunately only his Sergeant seems to notice. "Zachary Alexander, of Alexander Inc. Industrial tycoon, self-made millionaire, retired I think," he whispers in his Inspector's ear. Lewis gives a tiny nod to signal he understood.

"Maybe you'd best give an account of your situation yourself, Mr. Alexander," Innocent suggests, the glare she provides her detectives with leaving no doubt that she disapproves of the whispering.

Philip is slouched in his chair but now sits up a bit. "If you think so..." He sounds half bored, half annoyed, Lewis thinks, as if he doesn't seem very intent on having to explain his situation himself.

"Over the last weeks I have received threats to my life. I first took them to be someone's bad joke but within two weeks I received five letters. So I informed the police." The expression on Mr. Alexander's face tells Lewis that he thinks those three sentences explain it all. He turns to the Superintendent in the hope of getting a better explanation from her.

She holds out five sheets of paper to him. "Read them." The papers are copies of the threats Mr. Alexander has received and they at least shed some light on the matter. There is a reference to an 'Oxford deal' in two of them which could explain why they got called in. Hathaway stands close enough to read the letters, too, and when Lewis looks at him questioningly, checking if he's finished, he nods. Sometimes they don't need words. And from Innocent's earlier glare at their short exchange he's very glad about it.

Lewis hands the letters back to his superior. "So, where do we come in on this, ma'am?"

"I had hoped you'd ask." Lewis hates it when she gets sarcastic. It usually means he'll be assigned to something very unpleasant. "You two will protect Mr. Alexander while he's in our jurisdiction and - if possible - find out who is sending these letters."

Lewis groans inwardly. Philip Alexander doesn't look like the sort of person he wants to spend a lot of time with. Arrogance is positively radiating off the man and he doesn't like 'bodyguard-assignments' in the first place.

"To make sure this doesn't get to the press," she shoots Lewis another nasty glare, "you will be at Mr. Alexander's side undercover."

Lewis coughs to hide his groan.

Innocent ignores it and fixes her gaze on Hathaway instead. "Sergeant, you will be acting as Mr. Alexander's personal assistant. You're supposed to be old buddies from student's days, you're nearly the same age and you - indeed - both studied at Cambridge. This way you will get insight in business-matters and be able to check if the threats are coming from that direction."

Hathaway nods calmly. Sometimes Lewis admires him for his ability to hide his emotions so effectively. Or is he truly totally unfazed by this? There are times when he feels he's got to know his Sergeant quite well over the years, right now he's not so sure. He's also wondering what he is in for himself. He is too old - and too uneducated - to pose as someone related to Alexander's studying.

"You, Lewis, will take the role of Mr. Alexander's servant at his estate here in Oxfordshire. Keep an eye on the people coming and going, talk to the staff, you know the drill."

_'Servant?!'_ Lewis glances at Alexander, slouched in the chair again, and finds a smug expression on the man's face that he would love to wipe off it with a straight right. _'The man receives threats to his life but still feels he's so much better than the men sent to protect him.'_

"Yes, ma'am," he finally says when he trusts his voice not to give away his true feelings.

"The file will be on your desk shortly, along with as much information as we could put together in the short time to help you prepare for this assignment. Mr. Alexander will officially arrive in Oxfordshire tomorrow, when you," she nods at Lewis, "will be waiting for him at his mansion while you, Sergeant, will be picked up to arrive with him. All details will be in the file. Dismissed."

Lewis doesn't say a word when they head back to their own office. Inside, he drops down on his chair and groans openly, not worrying about what his Sergeant might think. "Idiot," he says, which earns him a questioning look from Hathaway.

He realizes he'll have to explain the insult. "Alexander. Mr. Snobbish. Come on, you must have noticed. Thinks he's so much better than us." He thinks about that for a moment. "Well, me at least." He sighs.

"But we know better," Hathaway offers.

"Won't make it any more pleasant. A servant! Me? The only thing I ever learned to serve are pints. I had to get enough rounds while I was working with Morse." The memory brings a grim smile onto his face.

"I hardly know anything about business deals and finances either."

"At least you can expect to be treated friendly, you're gonna be his buddy." His eyes fall on his Battleships playing field and he sighs again. "It's just not my day I guess."

An hour later a young DC Lewis is not aware of ever having met before drops off the promised file. Lewis looks through the papers it contains, handing everything about the business to his Sergeant. He finds a blueprint of the mansion in the file and unfolds it. It seems like a huge place, but he remembers having run investigations in similar or even bigger places before as he looks at the photos that are included. The blueprints made it seem bigger, or do the photos make it seem smaller? At least the house is big enough to consist of two wings. One smaller one with all household-related rooms, the bigger one with bedrooms, a dining room and several lounges, one of them seemingly bigger than all of Lewis' flat. The main wing is cut in half by a vast entrance hall with a wide flight of stairs.

The main entrance is aligned by pillars and not on ground level. Stairs lead up to the doors from both sides. Out the back is a big terrace, the first floor also has two balconies, one in front of another lounge, the second belonging to the master bedroom. The house is surrounded by big gardens and meadows. Lewis can make out flowerbeds along the driveway and hedges behind the house. On three sides the place is surrounded by woodland at a range of what Lewis guesses should be around 300 meters from the mansion at the back, closer at the sides. He considers the woods must consist of oaks, from which the estate's name 'Oaklund Manor' would originate.

Toward the street – which is about 500 meters from the house – runs a high brick wall, overgrown with ivy and other ranks. It is intersected by big double gates, radio-controlled from the house, as Lewis learns from another sheet of paper he finds in the file. Three CCTV cameras are installed along the wall, one of them covering the gates, the other two aimed along the wall. Why someone would go to that much trouble locking off the place towards the street while the other sides are only fenced in by trees eludes him.

Still he tries to remember as much about the place as he can without having seen it for real yet. He wishes, someone had taken some pictures of the inside as well, but that is left to his imagination and the sparse information he can draw from the blueprints.

He is still studying the plan when there is another knock on their door. A young man holding a suit bag is standing in the door.

"Yes?" Lewis asks.

"Inspector Lewis?" the young man asks around a chewing gum.

Lewis nods. "That's me." He gets up.

The youth strides in and pushes the bag into his hands. "Your costume, gov." He doesn't wait for a reaction from Lewis but heads right back out the door.

"Costume?" Lewis stares at the bag in confusion, then at his Sergeant who has looked up from his papers to listen to the short exchange.

"Were you planning to attend a costume party, Sir?" Hathaway asks innocently.

Lewis glares at him and opens the bag. Inside is a white waiter's livery, complete with shirt, tie and gloves as well as black trousers. "Tell me this is a bad dream, Hathaway..." he sighs, staring at the garments.

Hathaway doesn't. His face is totally blank, but Lewis knows his Sergeant well enough this time to notice the sparkle in his eyes, giving away his amusement. He shoots him another glare before zipping the bag back up again and hanging it on the side of a shelf. By the time he turns back to his desk, Hathaway seems engrossed in the business informations again. Lewis stares at him for a moment before settling back down behind his desk with yet another sigh. He looks through some more of the papers and holds one up unbelievingly. It's a list of the chores he's expected to deal with while undercover. The list is long and he wonders how he's supposed to have any time to keep an eye on Alexander or investigate the origin of the letters. He puts the paper back in the file and rubs his face with his hands. '_I knew we don't always get along too well, but apparently she hates me..._' He groans inwardly as he thinks of his superior.


	3. Chapter 3

Lewis yawns as he drives along the road that will ultimately take him to Oaklund Manor. He is in a bad mood already though the day has just begun. But the task ahead doesn't allow him any joy. He has decided to not yet put on the livery that got delivered the day before, a too rumpled look probably wouldn't go down too well in posh surroundings. He wishes Hathaway was at his side, the young man being so much better at dealing with people like these than he himself will ever be.

Finally the big double gates of the Manor come into view and he stops, lowering his window so he can reach the call button. It seems to take ages until he gets a reply and he just stretches out his hand to press the button again when a very stiff voice comes out of the small speaker. "Who is it, please?"

He can just stop himself from replying with his usual 'Inspector Lewis'. "Lewis. I come from the temporary employment agency. Mr. Alexander requested a servant for the week."

He can practically hear the frown in the silence that follows his introduction. "Very well then." The voice sounds anything but pleased but the gates slowly open and Lewis gratefully closes his window again. He was starting to shiver in the cool autumn air that came in.

As he drives up to the big mansion, he looks around. The place looks even more impressive in reality, but with the dark woods close by also a bit oppressive. He tries to ignore the creepy feeling the place brings up inside of him and holds out for a place to leave his car. He spots a van parked at the side of the house and pulls up next to it. He takes a deep breath before he gets out of his car and walks to the trunk to fetch his small suitcase and the suit bag. The trunk slams shut and he realizes too late that the slamming of doors probably is highly frowned upon here.

The lights on his car blink as he locks it with the remote and he turns to walk to the front where he passed the main entrance. He hasn't taken more than five steps when the stiff voice he heard through the intercom at the gates asks "And just where do you think you are going?"

He turns and finds a man standing at the side entrance. His posture is just as stiff as his voice. A quick mental check of the employees brings up the name Webster, the majordomo. He offers the man a smile which is not returned. Instead the man looks him up and down disapprovingly. 'His stare is worse than Innocent's,' Lewis muses as he walks up to him.

"You must be Mr. Webster. Pleased to meet you."

"It is Webster, not Mr. Webster." The corners of Webster's mouth seem to turn down another notch which Lewis hadn't thought possible. "I will show you to your room. You will want to get changed as quickly as possible."

No, Lewis doesn't exactly want to but he knows he must and obediently steps through the small side door and into a rather dimly lit and narrow hallway. He closes the door behind him, not wanting to put the man off any further, then hurries after him down the hallway to their left which ends at an equally narrow and dark staircase. Just before he strides up the stairs, Webster points to a door to his right. "You will have to share this bathroom with me. The female staff uses the upper one." His distaste in the fact that he will have to share the bathroom with Lewis is obvious in his voice. Without waiting for any sign of acknowledgement from Lewis he strides up the stairs where he leads Lewis down another hallway that - if Lewis remembers the blueprints correctly - stretches along the whole side of the building. Webster opens the very last door, standing aside. "This will be your room. I will ask the maid to show you around. I take it you have been assigned your tasks."

"Yes, they gave me a list. Where will I find the maid?" The name 'Jenny Brink' pops up in his mind.

"I will send her to fetch you. You will want to get changed now." It doesn't sound like a suggestion but like an order and once the door is closed behind him Lewis can't hold back the groan that's been building inside of him any longer. Not only one snob, but at least two! And this one nearly seems worse than Alexander himself which he hadn't really thought possible. He hopes that at least the ladies will be a bit more pleasant to deal with.

He looks around the little chamber. It's another dimly lit place with only one window that is not letting in much light at this early hour. He turns on the lights but they don't make the room much brighter. There's a wardrobe to his left, a small table and a chair at the window and around a corner is a narrow bed with a small bedside table. A horrible painting of a hunting-scene is on the wall above the bed. It's the only bit of decoration on offer, but at least there's a table lamp by the bed which seems to offer more light than the ceiling lamp when he turns it on.

With a sigh he sets to unpacking, pondering if he can dare to leave his toiletries in the downstairs bathroom but decides against it. He'll just have to take his bag along when he'll need it.

He hasn't brought a lot, hoping he won't need much. He's glad he packed a book though as there doesn't seem to be any sort of entertainment coming with the room. No radio or TV at least. Nor any books, there's not even a shelf he realizes and puts his book down on his bedside table.

There's a knock on his door just as he's tying his laces after getting changed. "Come in," he calls out and a young girl in her mid twenties pokes her head around the door. She offers him a smile, the first of the day and he returns it gratefully.

"Hi, I'm Jenny. You must be Lewis?"

"Yes, but if I am supposed to call you Jenny, you must call me Robbie." He holds out his hand to her and she takes it with a smile.

"I will, Robbie. Webster asked me to show you around. Are you ready to go?"

Lewis looks himself down. "I hope so, a bit hard to tell without a mirror."

Jenny giggles, then straightens the knot of his tie a bit. "You're good to go. But for the future - there's a big mirror just outside in the hall. You have passed it on your way here."

Lewis looks a bit embarrassed. "Seriously? I swear I didn't notice it."

"First stop on the sightseeing tour then." She offers him another smile and turns to lead the way. Lewis decides maybe there is hope for this week after all. There seems to be at least one kind soul around. He follows her out the door, this time making sure to close it as quietly as possible behind them.

"There it is." Jenny points to a large mirror halfway down the hall, then to a door on their right. "This is a storage room. Towels, linens, bedclothes, stuff like that." She walks on, pointing at the next door. "This is Agnes' room. She's the cook. She lives in a cottage not too far away but sometimes she stays over night when she's working on a big meal for the next day or the master just needs to be up especially early. And this," she points to the second last door of the floor, "is my room. And the small door here leads to Agnes' and my bath."

Lewis nods and makes "aha" sounds though he knew most of this already. But it's good to see the place for real. He turns to look at himself in the mirror. He hadn't even tried on the livery the previous day so he sees his image for the first time. He looks surprisingly elegant to himself though Webster probably would still find enough flaws. But it's the best a rumpled old copper can do so it will have to be good enough.

Lewis follows the young maid downstairs where they pass the bathroom he is supposed to share with Webster and the majordomo's room. At the service-entrance, as Jenny calls the door he entered through, the hallway turns left. Jenny leads him through the door on the right and Lewis finds himself in a huge kitchen. Food must be important here if the size of the room is anything to go by. A rumble of his stomach reminds him that he hasn't had breakfast yet.

"Agnes, this is Robbie, Robbie Lewis. He'll be working with us for the week while the young master is here."

At that a middle-aged woman turns to face them. She had been standing bent over a table, chopping away at something. She is the typical cliché of a cook, Lewis thinks. She is slightly overweight, her face is round and there's some warmth radiating off her as she studies the new arrival with curiosity. "Well, hello dear. You look like a man who likes a good breakfast, don't you? Here, sit down."

Lewis is surprised by the greeting, but obediently takes the seat she's pointing to. "Aye, I could do with a good breakfast indeed."

Jenny sits down at his side. "We were just about to have breakfast ourselves when Webster told me to show you around. Well, I'm showing you the kitchen, aren't I?" She giggles slightly again and Lewis feels himself relaxing in the presence of the two women.

"Coffee or tea, dear?"

"Oh, tea please."

Agnes places a steaming mug of tea in front of him and a second one in front of Jenny. "Breakfast will be just a minute." She smiles broadly at Lewis, obviously pleased to have someone new around whom she can feed.

The smile on Lewis face when she puts a plate full of delicious smelling food in front of him is equally broad. "That smells wonderful! I usually just have some muesli for breakfast but this..." he sniffs the food again, "smells a lot better."

"Muesli! No, you need to eat a proper breakfast, dear. And while you're here I'll make sure you do."

As Lewis tucks into his food, more of his glumness vanishes. This assignment does have it's good sides he decides and beams happily at Agnes.


	4. Chapter 4

James Hathaway is standing outside a still closed pub, his suitcase on the floor beside him, his laptop bag dangling from his shoulder. A cigarette in one hand, he stomps his feet in the attempt to stay warm. He was supposed to get picked up here fifteen minutes ago but so far there's no sign of Philip Alexander. He reaches for his mobile in his jacket pocket to call his superior to check for any changes to the plan no one informed him of, when a red sports cabriolet speeds around the corner and stops in front of the pub. Philip Alexander emerges from the driver's door and walks around the car to the passenger side. "You drive from here, James."

Hathaway quickly grounds out his cigarette and picks up his suitcase. He stores it away in the trunk, places his laptop on the barely existent back-seat and gets in behind the wheel. "What am I supposed to call you?" He decides if Alexander offers him no greeting there's no need for him to offer one either. "I take it 'Sir' would be odd if we're old student buddies."

Alexander doesn't even look at him. "You're right, that would be odd. I think it's all right for you to call me Philip when you talk to me but speak of me as Mr. Alexander to others."

"Agreed."

They don't speak any more as Alexander turns up the volume of the CD playing on the car's radio. It's not James' kind of music but he doesn't say a word, just concentrates on driving, not being used to the strong engine of the little sports cabriolet.

At the gates to the Mansion, he lowers the window to press the call button but Alexander presses a key into his hand. "Just unlock it."

Hathaway does and stops again inside the gates to lock them again behind them. He is surprised to find a man dressed in a well-cut black suit standing at the door when he pulls up in front of the big house. As he had never pressed the call button he had expected them to arrive unannounced, but the man obviously has been awaiting them, or at least Mr. Alexander. The man rushes to the driver door of the cabriolet and stops bewildered when Hathaway opens the door and emerges. The look of bewilderment is quickly wiped off his face again, he offers Hathaway a court "Good morning, Sir" and hurries around to the other side, opening the still closed door for Mr. Alexander. "Good morning, Sir. I hope you had a pleasant journey."

Hathaway notices the clipped way the man expresses himself. Here is a man used to serve only the poshest of people - and thriving on it.

"Morning, Webster. Yes, the drive was all right. I think you haven't met my new assistant yet: James Hathaway. I only managed to convince him to work for me recently. Have one of the guest rooms prepared for him.

"Right away, Sir." Webster hurries to the house and once inside, turns left and is out of view. Alexander strides up to the Mansion and Hathaway quickly grabs his laptop from the back-seat and follows him. Apparently he's not expected to bring his luggage. Alexander walks up the stairs to the main entrance and in the big hall vanishes through a door to their right. It leads to a vast lounge and he drops down on a settee. "Just make yourself comfortable, James. We're early, the first meeting isn't until eleven."

Hathaway puts his laptop down on a glass table and takes off his outdoor jacket - Alexander hasn't been wearing one - looking around, wondering where to leave it. As there seems no place to hang it, he just puts it over the back of the settee and sits down opposite Mr. Alexander.

Silence unfolds for a moment, before Philip Alexander suddenly gets up again. "Have you had breakfast yet? I'm starving." Without waiting for an answer he walks to the door and yells "Webster, I want breakfast for James and me. And make it quick." He shuts the door again and sits back down.

Outside the door in the big hall, Lewis curses slightly as he begins his struggle up the big flight of stairs with both the men's suitcases. Upstairs Jenny meets him and points him to Philip Alexander's bedroom with a nod, her arms full of bedclothes and towels for Hathaway's guest room.

As Lewis sets down the heavy suitcase of Mr. Alexander, Webster suddenly stands behind him, he never heard him approach. "You can skip unpacking, I will see to it. Just bring the other suitcase over to the guest room and then you will serve breakfast for the master and his assistant."

Once again he doesn't wait for any sign of acknowledgement from Lewis but just sets to unpacking his master's suitcase. Lewis hurries off with the smaller suitcase of his Sergeant, a thought he's not very fond off. Him carrying around his subordinate's stuff. Still he throws Jenny a smile when he enters the guest room which - he is glad to notice - isn't bigger than his room. Still it is better lit and more nicely decorated. He shakes his head slightly as he hurries back down the hall and to the stairs to go and fetch breakfast for Mr. Snob and his Sergeant. His foul mood is slowly returning already.

At least it is only a short distance between kitchen and dining room, which seems like a small miracle. All other rooms seem to be connected in only the longest possible ways. The architect must never have heard of shortcuts. Lewis is glad that Agnes is lending him a hand. He's never set a table other than at his own home and is glad Agnes is dealing with the cutlery and glasses, leaving him to carry the dishes.

"There you go, dear. Just tell the young master that his breakfast is served." Agnes smiles at him warmly before she retreats to her kitchen, closing the door behind her. Lewis takes a deep breath, straightens his jacket and crosses the big hall. He knocks on the door to the lounge and waits for a muffled "Yes." The door blocks sounds fairly well. He opens the door and finds himself staring directly into Hathaway's face who's sitting facing the hall door. The two men just stare at each other for a moment before Lewis remembers his role. "Breakfast is served in the dining room, Sir."

"Where else would it be served?!" Philip seems annoyed at such unnecessary information but signals for Hathaway to follow him. The two policemen exchange glances again as Hathaway walks past Lewis and the Inspector thinks it's going to be a long week.


	5. Chapter 5

Lunch proves to be a busy time for Lewis as Philip Alexander holds a business lunch with Hathaway and three other men whose names Lewis hasn't managed to get. But he is certain his Sergeant knows and that will have to do for now. As he carries the last dishes over to the big dining room he wonders why Alexander can't entertain his guests at a restaurant like other people do.

While the men are eating, he's chatting to Agnes a bit more. It seems just like idle small talk and trying to get some gossip about his current employer but Lewis has decided he needs to check out the personnel. His instinct tells him that Agnes is a too warm-hearted person to be a possible murderer but she is more than willing to talk and Lewis is glad about every bit of information he can get, so he sits and listens over another cup of tea.

She's been working for the Alexanders' for 23 years now and she likes her job. They leave her to it, enjoy her cooking and the old master is such a wonderful man. Never forgot his roots, always has a kind word for the staff. Philip Alexander of course is not that way. He's grown up as a rich man's son, never had to worry about money and though his father could be quite strict with him, he had too much freedom to become as modest as the old man. Lewis is not surprised by that information, he's caught a glimpse of Alexander junior's personality already and he doesn't like him at all.

Before he can ask more questions a bell rings through the kitchen, startling him. Agnes chuckles. "The master's sign that you can take the dishes away."

"Ah." Lewis nods and gets up to get 'back to work'.

Jenny comes in from the hallway. "I'll lend you a hand, Robbie."

"Thanks, Jenny." He smiles at her and turns to leave through the other door of the kitchen, the one leading to the dining room.

In the hallway he finds Webster glaring at him. "Hurry, the master doesn't like to be left waiting."

Lewis doesn't reply but knocks on the door and when there's no reply and no sound from the other side, opens it. The big French windows leading out to the terrace are open and the group of men has gathered outside for a smoke. He picks up the first dishes and takes them back to the kitchen. Webster has gone and he is thankful for it. The man slightly freaks him out.

He's just on his way back to the dining room when he hears a crashing noise and a loud curse. Copper instinct kicks in immediately and he rushes through the dining room to the French windows. Philip Alexander is on the floor, Hathaway half on top of him, just picking himself up again. Next to the two men, presumably where one of them had been standing, a big shattered flower pot is on the ground. Two of the guests are standing close by, one looking a bit shocked, the other one looking up to the balcony above the terrace.

"Dammit, aren't you supposed to protect me?!" Alexander hisses at Hathaway who offers him a hand to help him up.

"I think I just did." Hathaway's voice is calm.

Now Webster pushes past Lewis and Jenny, who had been standing behind him. "Oh my, are you all right, Sir? Whatever has happened here?" He turns to Lewis for a moment. "Don't you have any work to do? Get on with it."

Lewis, content that Hathaway seems to be in control of whatever exactly happened outside, does get on with his work. He collects the last dishes from the table and Jenny removes the table cloth and follows him, sitting down on the first chair in reach when she enters the kitchen. She looks rather pale and her hands grab the cloth in her hands so hard her knuckles are turning white. Agnes gently pries it from her hands. "What's up, dearie? What was that noise?"

"Mr. Alexander, he... he could have been killed." Tears of shock well up in Jenny's eyes and Agnes looks at Lewis questioningly.

"A flower pot has come down from the balcony. Lewis, get it cleared away." Once again no one heard Webster arrive.

Lewis looks at Agnes with a look saying 'Help me.' Agnes seems to understand for she fetches a dustpan and a broom from a hook in a corner and hands both to Lewis who takes it and hurries off, actually glad to have an excuse to get out and take a good look at what happened himself. Being forced to stay away from a possible crime scene felt very weird to him.

"The wind must have blown it over," he overhears Webster say before he's out of hearing range. He's not so sure he agrees though a strong autumn wind has picked up.

In the kitchen, Agnes pushes a cup of tea with a lot of sugar into Jenny's trembling hands. "Here, drink that, dearie. It'll calm your nerves." She returns to sorting the dishes, cleaning away left overs. She's getting so caught up in it she doesn't hear Jenny whispering "I wonder what the master meant that his assistant should protect him..."

Webster looks at her with a raised eyebrow for a moment but doesn't comment any further on it. "Just get a grip on yourself, it is nothing but a broken flower pot. Lewis will clear it away and we can all return to our tasks."

Jenny nods slightly and sips her tea. It does help to calm her nerves and she soon feels good enough to help Agnes with the dishes.

The terrace is deserted when Lewis steps out of the dining room, the business folks have retreated elsewhere. Though he had hoped he'd be able to exchange a few words with Hathaway, the situation allows him to take a good look around before clearing the mess away. He walks a bit further out onto the terrace and looks up. There are some more flower pots standing on the balustrade of the balcony that is partly serving as a roof for the terrace. Still, as he stares up at the balcony he realizes the wind is blowing from behind, it would have pushed the pot onto the balcony, not down onto the terrace.

"Aren't you supposed to clear that up instead of marvelling at the architecture?"

He turns around and faces a man he takes to be around Agnes' age. "Just checking if more pots are threatening to fall. And who are you?"

"Simmons my name. I'm the gardener. And who're you? I've not seen you around here before."

"Lewis, I'm here to help out this week, temporary employment."

The man nods. "Better get on with work then. The majordomo is a bit of a stiff one, he is. Better not get him mad at you."

'It might be a bit too late for that,' Lewis muses but doesn't say it. "Have you seen what happened?"

"Me? Nah, I've just come from cutting the hedges at the far back." He points at his wheelbarrow that is filled with cut branches. "They pay me to get the job done, not snoop around. I just saw you standing there, dustpan in hand, a mess at your feet and you not doing anything about it."

Lewis takes that as his clue, nods and sets to clearing the shattered pot and it's former contents away. He'll ask Agnes about Simmons later on. It's a name that wasn't on his list and if there's no hidden room, he doesn't live at the manor. So Lewis is very curious about the man.

In the end he doesn't find out a lot about him. He's been the gardener for as long as Agnes has been working for the Alexanders but with her spending most of her time in the kitchen and him out in the garden they don't know each other very well. They say hello and talk about the weather or some town gossip when he comes in for a cuppa, but that is all. And Lewis doesn't want to ask too direct questions as he doesn't want to give away his true identity.

He spends half an hour helping Jenny with folding the laundry in the cellar. She has recovered well from her previous shock and is all business, folding linens with well practised fingers. To Lewis' dismay he can't get much new information out of her.

He's trying to come up with a good reason to go up and check out the balcony when Agnes calls down to him. "Master's asking for tea. You can serve it, Robbie, it's ready!"

With a sigh Lewis gets up, leaving Jenny to her laundry and makes his way back up to the kitchen where a large silver tray with a teapot, two cups and a plate with biscuits awaits him. "They're in the upper lounge," Agnes informs him without looking up from her task of cleaning the work surface next to the sink.

Lewis picks up the tray and carefully makes his way through the halls and up the main stairs. He knows the lounge is on the left side of the stairs and he is glad to find the door to the hall open. He would have had trouble opening it, both of his hands holding the big tray.

Philip Alexander is sitting at a desk on the far wall, talking to someone on the phone. Hathaway has made himself comfortable in an armchair and is studying some papers. Lewis sets down the tray on a side table and pours a cup of tea, taking it to Alexander. He carefully sets it down on the desk but Alexander is so engrossed in his phone conversation that he doesn't seem to notice.

Though Hathaway is sitting right next to the table with the tray, he's not looking like he'll help himself to a cup of tea. Lewis glares at the back of his Sergeant's head for a moment before pouring a second cup of tea which he hands down to his younger partner.

"Oh, thank you, Lewis." Hathaway raises an eyebrow at the scowl on his Inspector's face and before Lewis gets the chance to ask him whether he has checked out the balcony, Alexander finishes his call and dismisses him. "That'd be all for now, Lewis."

Hathaway mouths 'Later' at him and Lewis nods slightly. "Yes, Sir."

Instead of heading back down, he tries the door for the master bedroom, the room Philip's parents occupy when they are around. It is unlocked and he quickly slips in and further out onto the second balcony. But there's not much he can make out on the other balcony from here. Only the wind blowing directly at him confirms his theory that it was not Mother Nature who tried to kill Alexander junior earlier that day.


	6. Chapter 6

It has started raining and Lewis has abandoned the idea of going to check out the hedges at the back of the garden. Fresh cuts will still be visible tomorrow when he can hopefully catch a dry spell. Webster keeps him busy though, sending him all over the place to do silly little tasks that don't really need doing in Lewis' mind.

Dinner is first served to Mr. Alexander and Hathaway and only once their dishes are cleared away, does the staff sit down in the big kitchen for dinner. With Webster among them there is not much talking going on. The man's negative vibrancy kills every attempt at conversation within the maximum of two sentences. Lewis wonders why Webster still has his job if old Mr. Alexander is as good-hearted as Agnes is describing him. To Lewis' mind Webster and Alexander junior deserve each other. Let them piss each other off.

Jenny retreats to her room after dinner, her chores finished for the day and Agnes says good-bye and goes home after dealing with the dishes which Lewis helped her with. Webster has long since vanished somewhere, probably thinking himself to be above tasks like washing dishes. Left to himself for the first time since arriving at the manor in the morning, Lewis walks up to his room and tries to sort out the information he gained throughout the day. He is glad he brought his notepad and a pen and now jots down notes to help him focus.

Around ten he goes down to the kitchen and puts the kettle on. Hathaway had asked for a 'nightcap' to be delivered to his room, hot chocolate, if you please. First Lewis thought his Sergeant just wanted to enjoy being served by him, but when he met Hathaway's gaze it was clear that he had just been given a reason to come and be alone with him, to talk in privacy. He had remembered the mouthed 'later' from earlier in the afternoon and had quickly assured Hathaway that he would certainly be able to find some hot chocolate in the well stocked kitchen.

Now he nearly trips on the few steps leading from the kitchen to the hall in the main wing and just barely manages to avoid making a total mess of the hot chocolate. If only the darn place was better lit! He makes it up to Hathaway's room without any further incident and without meeting anyone. The place feels eerily deserted and cold. Lewis knocks on the door and is glad to hear the familiar voice of his Sergeant calling him in. "Your nightcap," he says as he hands Hathaway the cup.

"Thanks, though you could have brought one for yourself, too."

"Don't you think that would seem a bit odd?"

"Well, yes, probably. I'll just ask for a pot of tea tomorrow and you can smuggle a second cup up here sometime during the day."

Lewis glares at him for a moment. "You didn't ask me round to discuss drinks, did ya?"

"No. Would you at least sit down if you already won't take a drink with me?" Lewis sits down on the settee besides his Sergeant, actually glad to get off his feet. He never had a problem walking the streets all day but being sent here and there all over the mansion has left him exhausted.

"So, did you check out the balcony?"

"Yes. But there's nothing to see. No disturbance and I found the doors in here are never locked so anyone could have walked out onto the balcony."

"Someone must have. Webster seems to think it was just the wind pushing over the pot, but it can't have been, wrong direction."

"I noticed that, too. So who was here at the time who could have been upstairs?"

"Let's see. I was clearing away the dishes with Jenny and we took them to the kitchen where Agnes was cleaning. She couldn't have made it upstairs and back in the short time Jenny and I were in the dining room to get the dishes. Not in this house, you can't reach any place easily..." He sighs, stretching out his sore legs. "So from the staff... Simmons," this gets a curious look from Hathaway who had read the list of employees, too, but had not heard of this man yet, "and Webster."

"Who's Simmons?"

"Gardener. Comes in two or three days per week, depending on the amount of work to do. Has been working here for so long, your old pal probably forgot to put him on the list. I don't know much more about him though. Met him outside when I went to clear the mess away. He says he was cutting hedges at the end of the garden, I'll go and take a look at them tomorrow, see if they're fresh cut although I suspect they are as he was pushing a wheelbarrow full of branches. But of course it's no alibi for the exact time."

"And Webster?"

"I have no idea where he was. The man practically moves without making any noise. You never know where he is until he's suddenly standing behind you. And he's a bigger snob than your pal Alexander."

"Who's not my pal. He barely acknowledges me unless there are others around. Speaking of others... the four business guests for lunch today: Two potential partners in this 'Oxford deal', an accountant of the company and an architect. The deal apparently is about erecting major office buildings on the outskirts of this land. Some of the woods are supposed to make way for profitable business buildings. There's building land right next to it where these potential partners plan to put up a factory. But there's not enough space for their office buildings so they approached Alexander about buying up some of his land. He doesn't want to sell but is willing to put up a big amount of office-buildings and rent out, first of all to these men, but also to others who are looking for modern and exclusive office space. The architect, Mr. Olsen, the accountant, Mr. Welps and one of the business partners, Mr. Geoffrey, were out on the terrace with us. However Mr. Andrews had excused himself to go to the bathroom. Still I don't see why he should threaten Alexander. He's interested in this deal working out."

Lewis listens intently to his Sergeant's explanations. It sounds logical to him.

"So if you rule him out, that would leave us with Simmons and Webster. Or there's someone else around here who's not on our list, but I haven't encountered anyone else and Agnes, who loves to chat and gossip, hasn't mentioned anyone either."

"Would either of them have a motive?"

"None that I can see. Webster pretty much seems to run the place, the man is so sure of himself and comes across as if it was his own place. And Simmons? OK, the gardener is always the murderer," Hathaway has to chuckle at the cliché, "but apart from that, I don't see any motive there either."

"So we'll have to be on the lookout again tomorrow."

"Seems like it."

Hathaway has finished off his chocolate and hands the cup back to Lewis. "You can take it away now, Lewis."

Lewis takes the cup. "You're quite enjoying this, aren't ya?"

When Hathaway doesn't answer, Lewis gets up. "Well, I'll see you in the morning then. Any special wishes for breakfast, _Sir_?"

"No, thank you. I don't eat much for breakfast anyway. Good night, Lewis."

"Aye, night."

With that, he trudges back to the kitchen, rinses out the cup and leaves it in the sink. He sighs at the prospect of having to walk up the stairs to fetch his toiletries, come back down here to use the bathroom and then head back up again. In some regard this house is a torture chamber, at least for the staff, he muses.


	7. Chapter 7

Lewis groans when the beeping of his mobile phone wakes him an hour earlier than he is used to. Another bad thing about this assignment – having to be up long before 'the master'. Glumly he stumbles down the stairs with his toiletries only to receive his first glare of the day from Webster when he opens the bathroom door without knocking, finding the other man standing in front of the mirror, shaving. Hastily he retreats and sits on the stairs until the bathroom is finally free. He must have dosed off again for he is slightly startled when Webster, standing in the open bathroom door, clears his throat. Without a word, Lewis walks into the bathroom, making sure to lock the door behind him. 'What a way to start the day,' he thinks as he stares at his tired face looking back at him from the mirror.

Half an hour later he is setting the breakfast table for Alexander and Hathaway with Jenny. How she and Agnes manage to look so full of energy at this time of day – and on an empty stomach – eludes him. Still he does his best to be friendly with them, they seem to be the only friends he's got around the place. Hathaway is too distant to count as they hardly have a chance to talk without risking to blow their cover.

Alexander takes his time with breakfast, much to Lewis' dismay. When the master is around the staff only has breakfast once he finished his. But Philip Alexander snugly sits at the table in suit-pants and shirtsleeves, drinking cup after cup of coffee, reading the morning newspaper. Like Hathaway he doesn't eat much. Still, Lewis is expected to stand at the side of the room, just waiting for one of the younger men to finish his cup of coffee and ask for a refill. Neither man has the dignity to say "thank you" when Lewis does, which doesn't improve Lewis' mood. He doesn't expect anything different from Alexander, but he always thought his Sergeant had fairly good manners. But Hathaway seems content with reading something on his mobile, leaving the newspaper to Alexander. He doesn't make eye contact with Lewis even though the Inspector is certain his Sergeant must feel like Lewis' gaze is drilling a hole into the back of his head.

Finally the two men retreat into the upper lounge to prepare meetings scheduled for later the same day. Lewis and Jenny clear the table and Lewis is glad to find Agnes has their breakfast ready by the time they are done. It's delicious and lifts his spirits so much, he places a kiss on Agnes' cheek before he heads out of the kitchen. "You just saved a life, Agnes. Mine."

"Oh, don't be silly, dear. No one ever starved in this house." But she beams at him happily, obviously glad to have someone around who appreciates her skills.

By the time Lewis has finished some of the chores he's expected to do – thankfully without running into Webster – it has started to rain heavily. He glumly stares out the big French windows of the dining room. He had intended to sneak out and check out the hedges the gardener claimed to have cut the previous day but in this weather he would be soaked and muddy on his return. And he just can't think of a good explanation why he needed to go out into the garden in this weather.

"Robbie? Are you coming?" Jenny startles him from his thoughts and he turns to find her standing in the door that leads to the kitchen. "We'd better start setting the table. The masters' guest will be arriving soon for lunch."

"Yeah, on my way. I had hoped to catch a bit of fresh air, but look at that weather. It's raining cats and dogs."

Jenny glances out the big windows, too. "Yes. And I know who's going to clean up the mud the guests will bring in..."

Lewis offers her a sympathetic smile. There's one thing this assignment has already done for him – it raised his appreciation of everyone who chooses to do the sort of work Jenny and he are dealing with around this place. It's tiring and mind numbing and he's very, very glad he's only going to be around for a few days.

The business lunch comes and goes without any incident. The guests are different ones from the day before which makes Lewis go over the information Hathaway had supplied the other evening in his mind. Could they have overlooked a motive for one of those men? He still can't find one but makes a mental note to mention it when he gets a private moment with Hathaway. Maybe his Sergeant knows something else about them that he hadn't passed on to Lewis yet.

A while after the meeting has headed over to the big lounge, it stops raining. And as Jenny hasn't had a chance to clean the hall yet, Lewis decides it's now or never if he wants to check out the hedge. He's careful, making sure he's not seen from the lounge as he sneaks out into the big garden. Once outside, he doesn't have to be so careful any longer. The hedges are taller than him and hide him from view from the manor.

The ground is still soft and he does his best to avoid the puddles the rain has left behind. Now that he is out in the garden, it seems even bigger than on the pictures and from the manor. But he hurries along until he reaches the last rows of hedges which indeed seem to be fresh cut. Also there is no chance to see more than the roof of the manor from here. It doesn't rule out that Simmons could have been elsewhere at the time of the attack though. But if he was out here, he wouldn't have heard or seen a thing. Lewis finds he's not much wiser than before and quickly hurries back again, managing to sneak back into the house through the dining room without being spotted.

He makes his way to the storage room where he spotted shoe polish the other day. Even though he was careful outside, his shoes betray his little excursion. And he doubts they would gain Webster's approval looking like this. But then – he doesn't seem to be able to gain Webster's approval for anything he does anyway. Still he quickly wipes the mud-stains away and heads back downstairs to the kitchen. It was chilly outside and he hopes for a nice cuppa from Agnes to warm him up again.

But as so often, things don't work out the way he hopes. Jenny is entering the kitchen through the second door just as he walks in. "Ah, there you are, Robbie. Webster's been looking for you, I think you'd better hurry. He's in the main lounge."

Lewis sighs inwardly. "And in a bad mood I suppose." Jenny looks at him with a bit of pity in her eyes and pulls a face while giving him a small nod so Lewis hurries off in said direction. However he's supposed to have time for a proper investigation when he's constantly hurrying from here to there is a mystery to him. Hopefully Hathaway will have better luck. He seems to have the easier job, just sitting around eating, drinking, reading or listening as far as Lewis can tell.

"Where have you been!" Webster doesn't make it sound like a question at all so Lewis doesn't bother to answer. He doesn't get the chance to anyway. The lounge is empty apart from Webster so the meeting presumably has ended. "The Master wishes for a sherry. Serve it. He's in the upper lounge." With that, Webster pushes a small silver tray with a single glass on it into Lewis' hands and walks out of the lounge without another word.

Lewis hurries out of the lounge after him and turns towards the stairs. Halfway up, he trips over a fold in the staircarpet, sending tray and glass scattering as he uses his hands to prevent himself from falling back down the stairs.

Jenny was just passing through the hall and turns at the noise and the curse escaping Lewis' lips. She hurries up the stairs to where he is sitting, rubbing his leg. "Are you all right?"

Lewis gets up and absent-mindedly dusts off his trousers. "Yeah, but look at the mess..."

"Don't worry about it, I'll clear it away. Just get another one of whatever you were carrying." She pushes the tray into Lewis' hands and hurries off.

"Thanks," Lewis calls after her and goes to pour a fresh glass of sherry. This time he pays closer attention to his footing as he walks back up the stairs, past Jenny who is already busy clearing away the glass shards.

The door to the upper lounge is open so he walks straight in. Hathaway is nowhere to be seen and Alexander is sitting in an armchair, studying some papers in his hands. Lewis puts down the glass on the table in front of him.

"What took you so bloody long," Alexander asks without looking up from his reading.

'Your bloody staircarpet,' Lewis wants to say, but stops himself in time and opts for a simple "Sorry."


	8. Chapter 8

By the time he is to serve dinner for Alexander and Hathaway, Lewis feels like punching someone. Webster has been popping up out of nowhere all afternoon as if he was waiting for something to happen, probably Lewis making another mistake. He's got the impression nothing happening in this house eludes the majordomo so he probably knows of the spilled sherry. If only the man didn't walk so quietly, arriving without any warning. It's driving Lewis up the wall and makes it even more difficult for him to 'gossip' with Agnes in the hope of learning anything new.

At least he is now certain that there is no further staff working around the place that Alexander forgot about when he put the list together. Agnes, Jenny, Simmons and Webster. Four very different characters but Lewis doesn't see a motive for murder for any of them, as much as he dislikes, even hates one of them. Being a snob is no crime, otherwise it'd be his biggest pleasure in the world to arrest both Webster and Alexander. If he had ever considered Morse a bit of a snob, meeting these two men changed his opinion of his former chief.

After dinner, Alexander and Hathaway retreat back upstairs. As he had said the previous evening, Hathaway orders tea from Lewis as his nightcap. He doesn't wait for confirmation from Lewis but just walks out the door after Alexander. Lewis shakes his head slightly and sets to clearing the table. Jenny, who came in from the kitchen to help, sees the gesture. "What's up?"

Lewis looks at her over his shoulder. "Are they always like that?"

"How?" Jenny asks while picking up Alexander's dishes.

"Well, arrogant. Barely acknowledging us."

Jenny gives him a sad smile. "The young master unfortunately yes. Now if you'd know his father, he's so different. Makes you wonder how such a kind man could raise such a," she hesitates and lowers her voice when she finishes, "snob." Lewis nods hearing his own thoughts voiced. "And his new assistant doesn't seem much better, does he?"

Lewis sighs. "Unfortunately not. Wonder if he's really like that or if his boss is rubbing off on him."

"Who knows..."

They have made their way into the kitchen where Webster is already waiting. Lewis immediately stiffens under his cold glare and Jenny falls quiet, too.

The staff dinner once again is a quiet event. But at least Agnes' food is delicious and Lewis' hunger is one thing that Webster can't diminish with his presence. Still, Lewis feels like Webster has it in for him, as if he is constantly being watched by the posh majordomo. And the looks the man bestows upon him don't feel very friendly. Lewis tries to avoid looking at the man for he fears he'd only get into an argument with him and being 'fired' from this 'job' is no option.

Again, Webster vanishes after dinner, leaving Lewis and the ladies to do the dishes and clear up. When Lewis takes the cleaned sherry glass back to the lounge, Webster suddenly stands behind him , nearly making Lewis jump. "There's a glass missing. What happened to it?"

'As if you didn't know already,' Lewis thinks. "I tripped over a fold of the staircarpet and it scattered. You really should have that carpet re-fitted. It's dangerous the way it is."

If looks could kill Lewis would have died on the spot from the glare Webster bestows upon him.

"I shall deduct the glass from your wages." With that, Webster turns on the spot and walks out.

'As if you were paying me anything for this...' He considers pouring himself a drink from the well stocked cabinet behind him, he could use one, but instead takes a deep breath and heads back to the kitchen. It's the warmest place in the manor, not only in terms of temperature. He sits at the big table and tiredly rests his head on his right hand.

"Are you all right, dear?" Agnes looks at him worriedly.

He throws her a fake smile. "Just tired, luv, just tired."

Agnes nods and pats his shoulder on her way to the coat rack. "You usually don't do this kind of work, do you?"

Lewis nearly jumps. "What?"

"I mean, you're not used to these surroundings, to being a master's servant. What jobs do you usually do – parties and such?"

Lewis sighs with relief. "Yeah, things like that."

"Well, it's only temporary, dear. You'll get something that suits you better next time. Good night."

"Night, Agnes." He just stays where he is until it seems time to serve Hathaway his tea. He had intended to do some thinking but in the end has drifted off to sleep. He wakes with his head resting on his folded arms. His back is complaining that he is getting too old to sleep in such positions. He stretches a bit after putting the kettle on, contemplating whether to take one or two cups. As there is no sound to be heard, he decides to risk bringing two cups.

He soon regrets the decision when he meets Webster upstairs who is just leaving Alexander's room with an empty tray. Apparently Hathaway isn't the only one who likes nightcaps. Lewis hurriedly turns his back towards Webster to shield the tray he is carrying. He doesn't feel like explaining why he is bringing two cups. Thankfully Webster doesn't say a word but simply heads towards the stairs.

Still Lewis is glad to close the door to Hathaway's room behind him. His Sergeant picks up on Lewis' jumpy mood immediately. "Is something wrong?"

Lewis puts down the tray and drops down on the settee. He runs his hands over his face before answering. "That man is freaking me out."

Hathaway sits down at his side. "Who?"

"Webster. I never know when and where he will show up next. I hope he didn't spot the second cup, I just ran into him on the landing. Anyway – has anything happened today that I missed?"

"I don't think so. Mind-numbing discussions about figures so high you wouldn't believe it. Alexander is juggling millions on this deal. But it's been quiet – no further attacks."

Lewis nods. "Same for me. Mind-numbing work but nothing new." He has decided _not_ to pour the tea today and feels a bit silly for the sense of triumph when Hathaway finally does.

"What do you make of the quiet day," Hathaway enquires.

"Makes me wonder if it was your missing guy Andrews yesterday who tipped the flowerpot, but I still can't see a motive."

"Nor can I. I've started to wonder if it could have been an accident after all, maybe an animal. There's no cat around as far as I know but it could have been a bird. With the woods close by there are always some around. I think I saw some every time I've been out for a smoke."

Lewis considers this option for a moment and takes a sip of his tea, but the expression on his face remains doubtful. "I suppose it's possible, but I doubt it. Would have been one hell of a coincidence, if a bird tips over a flowerpot just when Alexander is standing underneath it."

Hathaway just nods and the two men sit in silence for a minute, drinking their tea and trying to make sense of this case.

"So, who was around today? Anyone interesting?"

"For the case? I don't think so. All possible business relations, i.e. people interested in renting office space once the buildings are up. Alexander's trying to sign some contracts before the building starts. We had Mr. Collins, Mr. Quinn and Mr. Windle in today. All owners or CEOs of of Oxford based companies looking for better office space. I don't see any reason why they would want to harm Alexander. They all seemed very eager to rent space from him and he's been listening very closely to their wishes and needs. The architect is coming in again tomorrow and Alexander wants to discuss some small alterations with him that were requested today."

"The caring landlord? Not exactly the image Alexander created with me."

"We're talking long-term contracts that will bring him good money. These companies who are interested in renting the space are doing well, they have the money to pay high rents. I looked through the figures, Alexander will be making profit from the offices in good time if he can get the contracts signed the way there are outlined. So it's in his interest to adjust to the needs of the companies he wants to rent out to. It's all about money."

"That sounds more like him." Lewis stares into his cup for a bit. "So unless the reference to the 'Oxford deal' is only a cover and one of them has a private grudge against Alexander, we can rule them out."

"I didn't get the impression any of them knew Alexander in private. No private word spoken, it was all business. But I can ask him about it tomorrow."

Lewis nods. "You do that, just to rule them out."

Hathaway finishes his tea, puts the cup back onto the tray and leans back, staring at the high ceiling. "The possible suspects aren't exactly lining themselves up."

Lewis just shakes his head. They sit a bit longer in silence before he finally gets up. "Well, at least Alexander's survived another day, which is our top priority. I'm too tired to come up with anything. Let's see what tomorrow will bring."

Hathaway studies Lewis' face for a long moment. "Now don't you start, too," Lewis complains.

"Start what?"

"Observing me. It's enough that I constantly have Webster looking over my shoulder." He collects the cups and picks up the tray. "Night, James."

"Good night, Sir." Hathaway gets up and opens the door for him.

Lewis nods his thanks and walks out and right into the cold glare of Webster who is approaching from the opposite direction, now an empty glass on his tray. Lewis groans about his bad timing but decides backing off now would make things just worse so he ignores the majordomo and walks to the kitchen, leaves the tray on the counter and heads up to fetch his toiletries. The call of his bed is becoming louder every minute.


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning pretty much seems to be a repetition of the previous day, except from the weather. The sun comes out around ten and Lewis takes a moment to admire the way it glitters off the wet hedges and trees. The whole area behind the manor is sparkling which seems totally unfitting to the atmosphere inside. Admittedly, everything is kept sparkling clean inside, too. But in contrast to the sparkle of sunlight outside, it just makes to place seem even colder to Lewis.

Before it's time to start the preparations for lunch – only for three today, Alexander, Hathaway and the architect, Mr. Olsen – Lewis manages to get out onto the balcony the flower pot dropped down from. He stands still for a bit and it doesn't take long for a bird to arrive and sit on the balustrade. But it's only a tiny sparrow. Lewis observes him for a moment. Surely a sparrow isn't strong enough to tip over one of the heavy flower pots. He can hear the calls of several other birds but they're distant, probably originating from the woods. Realizing there's nothing more to be learned out here, he returns inside. As there's no one to be seen, he quickly looks around the papers on Alexander's desk. There's nothing personal here, not even a photograph. It's something that Lewis realizes is adding to the cold feeling of the place. There are no pictures of anyone around. No smiling family photographs from holidays, no proud parents with their little boy, just nothing. Not even a painting of an ancestor, though that would be highly unlikely seeing as it only was Zachary Alexander who rose above the working class.

At any rate, he can't find anything of interest in his quick search and he doesn't have the time to linger any longer so he decides he'll have to rely on Hathaway concerning the business angle.

He makes it back to the kitchen in time to set the lunch table with Jenny without having to hurry. It's getting easier, he realizes. The way things are arranged on the table, be it glasses, cutlery or decoration, seem to slowly register on his mind. Now if only he had someone over for dinner occasionally so he could put the new knowledge to use... but he doesn't have time to dwell on his lack of social life for long as Webster opens the opposite door to the dining room, letting in Alexander, Hathaway and Olsen. Lewis hadn't even realized the architect had arrived already. Maybe it was while he was outside. He hurries back to the kitchen, Alexander doesn't like having to wait to be served. The food he serves makes his mouth water, it smells delicious. Today he is asked to stand at the side of the room to deal with refills and provide the men with more food. Watching the three men eat is torture, though. He tries to focus on listening in on the conversation but the talk of which wall to move one and a half meters to what side and the cost of another toilet on the third floor doesn't seem to be of any importance to him and is not much distraction from his growing hunger.

Towards the end of lunch, Hathaway excuses himself from the table. Lewis nearly misses the tiny nod of his Sergeant in his direction. He quickly grabs an empty bottle from the table and leaves the room in the opposite direction, but turns left instead of heading for the kitchen. He finds Hathaway in the narrow hallway connecting the two wings.

"Well?" His voice is hushed.

"Alexander wants to head out to the planned building site this afternoon with the architect. I'm a bit worried about safety if we head to the woods. They've not started clearing the space yet. Lots of trees bordering the construction site of Geoffrey's company who apparently already started their construction. That sounds like a lot of ground an attacker could easily hide in."

Lewis agrees it does. "Get some backup in then, just make sure they're either plain clothed or stay out of sight."

Hathaway nods. "Yes, Sir."

"And keep your eyes open. You're responsible for Alexander out there, I can hardly show up there with a tray offering a round of drinks."

Again Hathaway nods. "I'll get backup there asap so they can be in position before we arrive."

"Sounds good." Lewis looks at the empty bottle in his hand. "I'd better run before someone gets mad at me again." He sighs. "Believe me, you got the better job on this one." With that he turns and finally heads to the kitchen for a fresh bottle of water. He makes it back to the dining room before Hathaway returns.

When Lewis finally gets a chance to get something for lunch, he is absent minded and doesn't notice Agnes' worried question if he is all right until she places a hand on his own.

"What? Oh, yeah. I'm fine."

"You look troubled though, dear."

He offers her a smile. "Nah, just been lost in thought, Agnes." As she doesn't seem convinced, he changes the subject, pointing to his plate with his fork. "This is great. Any chance you'll share the recipe?"

Food must be the most interesting thing in Agnes' life for she immediately takes the bait. She smiles broadly. "It's one of my specialities. The old master really loves it, too. Oh, how I wish he would be around more often but he's spending so much time in the city these days... anyway, I like you, Robbie Lewis, so yes, I think I might just let you in on the secret." She happily winks at him and he grins in return.

"Hope I'll be able to do your speciality justice. I'm nowhere as good a cook as you are."

"Oh, don't worry, it's fool-proof. I'll write it down for you later on."

"Thanks, you're an angel, Agnes."

She blushes a bit, pats his hand and gets back to tinkering with something on the counter, leaving Lewis to his thoughts.

Of course he isn't left to his peace for long as Webster suddenly appears with another one his sneak-approaches and commands Lewis all over the place to tend to this and that. Clearing up the big lounge – not that Lewis can find much that seems out of place there – watering the plants around the house – half of which he discovers are very real looking fake flowers, he nearly watered one of them – and cleaning the chandelier over the dining table. For this Lewis has to go looking for Jenny to help him find a ladder. He momentarily considered climbing onto the table to reach the lamp but quickly dismissed the thought again.

He needs to go outside to get a ladder as it's kept in a shed that can only be accessed from the garden. When he finally is done with what he considers an imposition and takes it back outside to return it to it's spot in the shed, he sees Alexander, Hathaway and Olsen approach from the back of the garden. They walk slowly, Hathaway hanging back behind the other two men a bit. From what he can tell from the distance, all seem to be well and calm. He takes it there was no further attempt to kill Alexander and he sighs with more relief than he thought he could muster up considering his feelings for Alexander jnr.

Mr. Olsen leaves soon after the group returns to the Manor and Alexander and Hathaway once again retreat upstairs after ordering tea. Lewis delivers it to them, hoping to catch Hathaway's eye to confirm that there was no incident. With the possibility of Webster appearing at any time, he doesn't want to risk talking openly, even though Alexander of course knows who and what they are. To his dismay, Hathaway is out on the balcony for a smoke when he pours the tea and has his back turned to him, apparently confident that nothing will happen to Alexander in the lounge. Lewis doesn't pour a second cup for Hathaway, only the one for Alexander. He leaves the tray with the teapot and the second cup on the table next to where Hathaway sat the other day. Alexander of course doesn't acknowledge him in any way, just picks up his cup and takes a sip when Lewis passes on his way out. Lewis thinks he does it only to wind him up and inwardly curses himself for reacting in exactly that way.

He just about manages to squeeze in a cuppa for himself before he is expected to do get more work done. Webster really seems to have it in for him today as he doesn't give Lewis any chance to catch his breath until he exhaustedly drops down on a chair at the kitchen table after clearing the dining table once Alexander and Hathaway have finished their dinner.


	10. Chapter 10

It started raining around eight and the rain is pattering heavily against Hathaway's window when he finally returns to his room after a lengthy discussion with Alexander. He hasn't had a chance all day to enquire about any non-business relations to the visitors the other day. But Alexander denies any, it's all about making money. No relationship beyond business. He knows one of the CEOs from doing business before but no, that went smoothly, a profitable deal for both sides. He really can't think of any reason why one of these men would wish him any harm.

Hathaway is just changing out of his suit when there's a knock on his door. He expects it to be Lewis and doesn't worry much about only wearing socks, boxers and a t-shirt.

"Come in."

The door opens but it's not Lewis, it's Webster, pointing an old front-loader gun at him that Hathaway remembers having seen hanging in a display on the wall in the lounge downstairs.

"Do not make a sound, please." Webster closes the door behind himself without turning his back to Hathaway. He notices Hathaway considering the gun. "Don't get any wrong ideas, it may be old but it's fully functional and loaded. I keep everything around this place in good shape. Lift your hands up, please."

The 'please' sounds so out of place with the gun pointing at him, that Hathaway nearly laughs. Still, he raises his hands halfway up.

"What have I done to you?"

"You and your boss - I suppose he is, seeing how much older he is – have crossed my plans once too often. I need to get you out of the way."

Hathaway decides to play dumb. "I know Mr. Alexander's not the most pleasant boss but what do I have to do with that? I only started working for him recently."

"Shut up." Webster manages to sound menacing without raising his voice. "I'm not talking about the master and you know it. Don't take me for a fool." Webster walks over to the window, the gun never wavering away from Hathaway who slowly turns to keep his eyes on the majordomo. Webster removes the curtain-cord from the window decoration. "On your knees, please." When Hathaway doesn't react immediately he takes a step closer, pointing the gun straight at the Sergeant's head. "Now." This time, Hathaway obeys. He can't tear his gaze away from the gun. The way Webster is holding it, he can look straight into the barrel and it's no pleasant sight.

Webster walks around him and whacks him over the head with the handle of the gun. Hathaway drops to the floor like a sack of potatoes. When he comes around again, the gun slowly comes into focus, then Webster behind it. Hathaway is still lying on the floor and tries to sit up which proves difficult as his hands are bound behind his back. He wants to say something but realizes he's also gagged. Webster silently watches him struggle to a sitting position, then gets up from where he stiffly sat on the sofa.

"It's about time you woke up. I don't want to have to carry you. Get up."

Hathaway struggles to his feet, his head throbs and the world is spinning for a few seconds. Webster walks to the door, opens it and looks outside. He holds the door open. "Move, and don't make a sound. Walk quietly."

Hathaway takes another look at the gun and nods. Quietly he walks out of the door. Webster is right behind him, almost pushing the gun into his back. It's not quite touching his back but he can feel his shirt brushing against his skin in unnatural places where it's pushed by the gun.

Webster guides him down the main stairs and through the narrow hallway he met Lewis in earlier the day. What comes next is an area he only knows from the blueprints – the side wing. Light is shining around a door to his left and he considers making a run for it. But as he can't be certain someone actually is behind it to help him, he dismisses the thought and silently walks ahead. A turn left, then right, then up some stairs and along another corridor. Hathaway's mind struggles to keep up with where he is. The throbbing in his head from the blow doesn't make thinking any easier.

Finally, Webster knocks on the last door, making Hathaway wonder if there's a accomplice waiting behind it. But it's Lewis who opens the door, his eyes growing wide with surprise at finding his gagged Sergeant outside. Before Hathaway can try to warn him with a look or a nod, he is shoved from behind and stumbles into the Inspector, sending them both flying down onto the floor.

An "Oooph," escapes Lewis as Hathaway, who only manages a muffled groan, lands half on top of him. Hathaway manages to roll off his superior quickly, clearing the older man's line of vision so he can see Webster with the gun pointed at them for the first time. The majordomo already shut the door behind him

"Now please, remain quiet."


	11. Chapter 11

Lewis sits up and helps Hathaway to a similar position, checking out the state of his Sergeant. A nod from Hathaway confirms him that he's all right so he focuses his attention on Webster and the even more unwelcome sight of a gun pointed at his Sergeant.

"Put that blasted thing down," he tries.

"I will, but not yet. Stay where you are." Webster changes his aim from Hathaway to Lewis as he walks around them, forcing Lewis to strain his neck so as not to lose sight of him. He finds Lewis mobile on the small bedside table and pockets it. Next he picks up Lewis' wallet and opens it.

"Inspector Lewis. And Sergeant Hathaway as I already found out. I am not 100% sure why you are here but you have made a nuisance of yourselves, both of you. I will have to make sure you don't cross my plans again. The young master needs to be stopped and you will not stand in my way any longer." He walks back towards the door and removes the key from the lock. "I will decide what to do with you later on." With that, he closes the door and Lewis hears the key turned in the lock from the outside.

"Dammit." He quickly removes the gag from Hathaway's mouth. "You OK?"

Hathaway nods. "Sorry, I didn't have time to warn you."

Lewis doesn't react but pulls at the knots binding Hathaway's hands.

"He took me by surprise, showing up with that gun, then just knocked me out. He had tied me up by the time I came round again."

"Never mind, we need to get out of here, stop him before he gets to Alexander." Lewis gets up and heads for the door, rattling it but it's not moving one bit. Behind him Hathaway got up, too, and upon seeing the failure of his Inspector, walks to the window and opens it. The sound and feel of the wind rushing in makes Lewis turn. "Don't be daft, man. It's too high to jump."

But Hathaway has his head outside the window. "There's an espalier out here, I can probably climb down along it."

Lewis joins him and peeks outside, then shakes his head. "It's too risky, especially in this weather."

Hathaway looks straight at him. "Unless there are any secret doors in this room you haven't told me about it seems to be our only option."

Lewis looks around desperately but can't think of any other escape route so he gives a resigned nod. "Just be careful."

Hathaway nods as well and starts climbing out of the window. He's soaked in seconds and must be freezing in just a few more, Lewis thinks, but slowly but steadily Hathaway makes it down to the ground. Lewis lets out the breath he hadn't realized holding when the Sergeant lets himself drop the last bit to the ground and waves up at him before dashing around the side of the house and out of sight.

Lewis is waiting by the door when Hathaway finally approaches from the other side. To Lewis, it feels like an hour has passed though it was barely a minute.

"He took the key, I'll have to break it down," his Sergeant calls from the other side and Lewis backs away just in time as the door crashes open, revealing a dripping and slightly out of breath Hathaway.

"Glad he doesn't keep everything in good shape," Hathaway comments, slightly panting, which Lewis doesn't quite get the meaning of. He looks the younger man up and down, decides the adrenaline seems to keep the chill away and enough energy in him that they can do business first. He rushes past him. "Come on, we've got to stop him. Alexander will probably be in his room at this hour."

He charges through the house, Hathaway hot on his heels. They don't have time to call for backup, especially as they'd have to use the line from the lounge with their mobiles gone. Lewis nearly trips over the fold in the stair carpet again in his haste but his momentum is enough to propel him further up the stairs and he regains his footing. There's no sign of Webster anywhere so he heads straight for Alexander's room, barging in without knocking.

Inside, Webster is just setting down a drink he brought. Alexander is sitting on a big leather sofa, reading. He looks up at the intrusion. "What the f..."

Hathaway speeds right past Lewis and tackles Webster before the man can react and try to defend himself. Hathaway has him pinned on the ground in no time while Lewis adds one and one in his brain when Alexander bends forward to pick up the glass. "Don't drink it! It's poisoned."

Alexander stares at him with his mouth hanging open, then stares at Hathaway and Webster on the ground and back to Lewis. He closes his mouth and swallows. "Would you care to explain what is going on here?"

Lewis retrieves a handkerchief from his pocket and replaces the glass on the tray, using the piece of cloth to avoid touching the glass. He ignores Alexander and turns to Hathaway and Webster. "Mr. Webster," he calls him Mr. just to annoy the man, "I arrest you under suspicion of attempted murder of Philip Alexander and assault of two police officers. Sergeant, read him his rights and find somewhere to keep him under arrest."

He watches with satisfaction as Hathaway carries out his order. Bringing down at least one of the snobs feels too good to not enjoy the moment.

By now, Alexander got up and glares at Lewis. "You must be out of your mind. Webster trying to kill me? The man half raised me!"

'Which explains a lot about your attitude,' Lewis thinks. He only raises an eyebrow at Alexander and follows Hathaway who has dragged Webster away. The man didn't seem to put up much of a fight but you never know.

Hathaway has placed Webster in the guest bathroom and is just locking the door when Lewis arrives. "The window's too small to climb out."

Lewis nods. "Good. He didn't happen to have our mobiles on him?"

Hathaway shakes his head. "Nope." Lewis realizes Hathaway is not just shaking his head, he is shaking, finally feeling the cold. He places a hand on his Sergeant's back and gently shoves him in the direction of his room. "Get dry and dressed. I'll find our mobiles and call backup."

"Backup's right outside the gates. I never got round to telling you. There's an unmarked parked opposite. Only without a mobile I couldn't call them in." Hathaway's teeth are chattering slightly and he quickly hurries off to his room.

Lewis looks after him for a moment, then heads down. He expects Webster to have left their mobiles in his room and is proved right. Less than five minutes after the arrest, colleagues arrive at the manor to take away Webster and the glass. Alexander has been following Lewis around like a lost puppy, demanding to know what was going on. Lewis, unnerved enough by him, just tells him that he's safe now and that he'd better start looking for a new majordomo – and servant. And would he now – please – get out of his way? Upset with Lewis' manner, Alexander throws on some clothes and drives off in his little sports cabriolet. Lewis couldn't care less. Though Innocent will probably not be happy with it, but he did as he was told, saved the man's life and arrested the culprit. It should be enough to keep her wraith at bay.

By the time Lewis returns from seeing the colleagues off with Webster, Hathaway has dried off and dressed, now wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. He still looks cold but he's not shaking any longer. "How did you know the drink was poisoned, Sir?"

"Let's get you something warm to drink first." Lewis leads him to the kitchen where to his surprise he finds Agnes and Jenny, dressed in morning gowns. "What are you two doing here?"

"What is going on around here, Robbie?" Agnes looks at him with curiosity while Jenny seems more interested in Hathaway. "First there's a big thump, then a crash, then someone running and now there's people taking Webster away. What _is_ going on, dear?"

Hathaway throws his superior a curious look at the way he is addressed by the cook.

Lewis sighs. "Long story. Why don't you make us all a nice cuppa and I'll explain it – to all of you," he adds, looking at Hathaway.


	12. Chapter 12

A few minutes after Lewis and Hathaway arrived in the kitchen, the four people are gathered around the kitchen table, each with a steaming mug of tea in front of them.

"First of all, I'm no servant – not even working for party services – and he," Lewis points at Hathaway, "is not Mr. Alexander's personal assistant. We're detectives of the Thames Valley police. We were sent here to protect Mr. Alexander as he'd received credible threats to his life."

Jenny seems shocked by the news but at the same time her interest in Hathaway seems to grow. Hathaway offers her a quick smile but then hides behind his mug.

Agnes just nods. "Go on then, dear."

Lewis smiles, happy that she still calls him dear. Not everyone does it when they learn they've been lied to for days.

"We've been trying to find out who attempted to kill Mr. Alexander and at the same time protect him. Now my Sergeant here did a grand job of it when he pushed Alexander away from the flower pot Webster sent flying down from the balcony. Webster wasn't around when it happened. But he wasn't the only one who was at or around the house whom we couldn't place at the time. There was also Mr. Andrews and the gardener, Simmons, who were not with either of us at the time."

"Nor was Agnes," Jenny points out.

"No, but she was in the kitchen right before and afterwards and couldn't have made it upstairs onto the balcony and back in time."

Agnes nods and picks up her mug. "True. And I never go up there anyway, not my area. I never get any farther than the dining room really."

"For a while I thought nothing happened the next day. Which made us suspicious of Mr. Andrews again as he wasn't around that day and had been unaccounted for the other day. But neither of us," he nods at Hathaway, "could make out any motive for him."

Hathaway nods and casts a glance at Jenny who smiles back at him.

"I only realized tonight that Webster tried to poison Alexander. You remember the glass I scattered on the stairs, Jenny?"

"Of course. Oh, you mean that was..."

"Poisoned, yes, I'm sure of it. I'll have someone check out the carpet where I dropped the drink. I'm sure they'll find residue of some poison there. Rat poison probably, I saw some out in the shed where the ladder is kept."

"So if you hadn't tripped on the stairs, you'd have delivered the kiss of death to Alexander," Hathaway remarks.

Lewis glances at him. "So to speak. Maybe you'd like to go on, you had more action today than me."

Hathaway takes another sip of his tea, never letting go of the warm mug as he takes up the story. "Today I went to the future building site with Mr. Alexander and Mr. Olsen, the architect. I had feared something might happen there. Woods and a building site right next to each other, it sounded like a perfect place for an attack, but none came. I had backup around the place but didn't need it. Thankfully. Still, I asked for a car to placed close by as backup and they were outside the gates all the time. Which didn't help us much in the end. This evening, Webster came up to my room. I had expected it to be the Inspector, but it was Webster, pointing one of the vintage guns from the display in the main lounge at me. He kept out of range for me to strike out at him so all I could do was do as I was told. He made me get down on my knees and he knocked me out, I suppose with the gun."

"Oh you poor thing, you," Jenny looks at him with worry. "Are you OK?"

"Yes, only a bit of a headache and a bump on the back of my head, Hathaway reassures her. "Anyway, when I woke up again, he had me tied and gagged. He made me walk through the house all the way to Inspector Lewis' room whom he took just as much by surprise as he had done with me before. He locked us in after telling us we'd crossed his plans once too many and he'd stop Alexander now. Which really was the give-away."

Jenny is practically hanging on Hathaway's lips. "How did you manage to get out?"

"I climbed out of the window, down the espalier. Thankfully the side entrance wasn't locked so I could get back inside. I rushed upstairs to get the Inspector and ended up having to break down the door as Webster had taken the key."

"That explains the loud crash." Agnes sounds very matter of fact about it all.

"Yes. Sorry, but breaking down doors can't be done quietly."

"You could of course have used the spare key." Agnes points to a collection of keys hanging on the wall.

"I didn't even know what those were for so how should he?" Lewis knows that Agnes doesn't mean it as an accusation but still feels the need to protect his Sergeant. "Anyway, we rushed over to Alexander's room and found Webster just delivering him a drink. One that looked exactly like the one I had spilled the other day. That's when I made the connection. James here arrested Webster and locked him into the guest bath until the colleagues took him away. And Alexander has rushed off sulking because I dared to speak to him in my normal tone." He leans back and wipes a hand over his face.

"Shouldn't we get over to the station to question Webster," Hathaway asks.

"Oh, I think a night in a cell won't hurt him. I need some sleep before I feel like dealing with him. Why don't we stay the night and enjoy a last one of Agnes' marvellous breakfasts before questioning Webster?"

Hathaway nods. "As you say, Sir."

Jenny looks at him. "Sir, Inspector... shall I prepare the second guest room for you then?"

Lewis smiles at her. "Don't bother. I have a bed to drop down into upstairs. I don't need anything else right now." To prove it, he unsuccessfully tries to stifle a yawn.

"Right, why don't we all go to bed?" Agnes gets up and clears the mugs away. The others get up and head off to their rooms under the mumbles of "good nights".


	13. Chapter 13

A quiet night and a rich breakfast later, Lewis and Hathaway are walking out the side entrance to Oaklund Manor, simply because it's closer to Lewis' car than the main entrance. They load their suitcases in the trunk and this time Lewis doesn't have a bad conscience about slamming it shut. He's just about to get into the car when Agnes calls out to him.

"Robbie, wait!"

He turns to look at the smiling cook as she walks up to him. She pushes a piece of paper into his hand and gives him a peck on the cheek. "Take care of yourself, dear. And don't go back to muesli, it's no proper breakfast." She winks at him.

"You take care of yourself, too, Agnes."

"Oh, no worries, dear." She turns and walks back to the manor. Lewis unfolds the paper, glances at it and refolds it before putting it into a jacket pocket.

"What was that about muesli," Hathaway asks as Lewis gets into the car.

"Just a caring soul, Sergeant."

They head straight for the station as Lewis wants to be done with Webster and Alexander and this whole case as soon as possible. It has spoiled enough of his days.

Before the two policemen get a chance to even go to their office, Superintendent Innocent spots them and waves them into her office.

"Would you care to explain to me what's going on? I hear you've got a suspect in custody which I suppose is a good thing. The thing I don't approve of is the complaint of your misbehaviour towards Mr. Alexander that I found on my desk first thing this morning." She looks at Lewis expectantly.

"We have Mr. Webster in custody, Ma'am. We were just about to question him. I don't understand his motive for wanting to kill Mr. Alexander yet, but last night he attacked Hathaway, locked us in and then tried to kill Mr. Alexander for the third time."

"If there were two previous attempts, why did I hear nothing of it? And why didn't you arrest him sooner?"

"We didn't know it was him until last night. But I'd say preventing two attempts of murder was good work."

Innocent has to concede it was. "Well, yes. Still, what's this complaint about?"

"Mr. Alexander probably was suffering from shock, we had just arrested his majordomo in front of his eyes. He might have understood something wrong, Ma'am,"Hathaway interjects in defence of his Inspector. Innocent glares at him for a moment but Hathaway doesn't give anything away, his face a still mask.

"Get out of here and get this case closed."

"Yes, Ma'am." Lewis throws his Sergeant a thankful look as they head out. In their office, a first report from the lab is already on his desk, confirming his suspicion of rat poison in Alexander's drink.

Lewis waves the report triumphantly. "The nail to Webster's coffin."

Hathaway has Webster brought to one of the interrogation rooms, then walks out the door. Lewis, now sitting at his desk, doesn't notice. He's on the phone to have someone go round and check the stain on the stair carpet. Jenny has promised to protect the spot from further disturbance until someone comes to check it out.

By the time he hangs up the phone, Hathaway is back with two mugs of coffee. Lewis smiles contently as his Sergeant places one on Lewis' desk. "Thanks, James." He's glad that his Sergeant is slipping back into his usual behaviour so easily.

"Webster should be up in about five minutes," Hathaway remarks.

"Coffee first, he can wait another five minutes."

Webster looks like a different man. A night in a cell has left his suit rumpled and his hair is standing off in some places as if he has torn it. Lewis takes a seat opposite him, placing a file on the table in front of him. Hathaway remains standing a few feet away.

"Mr. Webster. We have evidence against you. This," Lewis hold up the file he brought along, "is the lab report confirming that the drink you served to Mr. Alexander last night was mixed with rat poison. You assaulted my Sergeant and threatened us with a gun. That alone is enough to put you away for a long time. Maybe we'll never be able to prove you tipped over the flower pot, but I'm certain we'll find traces of rat poison in the stain from where I spilled the drink you wanted me to serve Mr. Alexander two days ago. So I don't care whether you confess, but I am curious – why? Why did you want to kill Mr. Alexander?"

For the first time Lewis sees Webster laugh and it's not a pleasant sight. Or sound. Probably the man doesn't even know how to really laugh, Lewis muses.

"He is about to destroy my work."

"Your work?" Lewis looks at Webster, then Hathaway, but for once his Sergeant seems as much at a loss as he is. "What would that be?"

Webster glares at him. "Oaklund Manor!" His tone of voice says it really should be obvious.

Now Hathaway speaks up. "He's not planning to destroy the house."

Webster sighs. "You don't understand."

"Explain it to us then," Lewis says.

"The house is only a part of Oaklund Manor. The whole place is my work. I've overseen all the work done on it since the old master bought it. The house, the garden, the woods, all my work. And now the off-hand master Philip wants to destroy it. Cut down the woods and build offices! Now what will that mean for the Manor?! You can't do it, it's destroying the place. It's perfect the way it is, I made sure it is. And he just wants to destroy it, ruin it. He's got no respect for my work, never had."

Lewis opens his file and looks at the copies of the threat letters again. "The Oxford Deal, it's all about that? You wanted to prevent it by all means – even murder?" He shakes his head.

"I never cared for master Philip. It's only the Manor that counts. It's my work, my life!" Webster's voice sounds like he's seething with rage, the most emotion Lewis has heard from him yet. But he has heard enough. He gets up from the table and heads for the door. "Have him brought back to his cell."

A couple of days later, Lewis' doorbell rings. He's in his small kitchen, cutting vegetables. He sighs and wipes his hands on a towel before heading for the door.

"Oh, James. Come in."

"Thank you, Sir." Hathaway sniffs the air. "Don't tell me you are cooking? Whatever it is, it smells delicious."

"Well, if you think so – care to stay for dinner? The recipe is for two anyway."

"Thought you'd never ask." He drops his jacket over the back of Lewis' couch before following him into the kitchen where Lewis is studying a hand written note that seems to have been folded at some point. "Do you need help?"

"Nah, it's said to be fool-proof so I think I'll manage. Oh wait – you can open a couple of beers for us."

With a happy smile, Hathaway complies.


End file.
